Pierre helped Baldwin walk the gardens. The humble nurse was his closest confidante. "Saladin will soon arrive at Jerusalem's gates. I must rally my forces, my people, to defend our city against all odds. The Lord shall guide us through this dark hour."

Baldwin married Maria Komnenos at 18, with Jerusalem in dire need of heirs. Maria was old, 27 years old, an exiled widow and a stillborn's mother. No one truly believed the two would produce an heir, and yet Manuel was born.

After countless hours of chess, engaging debates, and earnest interest, Maria found herself falling hard for Baldwin, for his mind and spirit. She wanted only to lift his face veil and kiss him, no matter his disfigurement.

But Baldwin was convinced he was untouchable, unlovable, and rejected her while fantasizing about platonic, pious romance, distancing himself from the carnal love he thought he would never able to achieve.

Baldwin was in bed, unable to fall asleep. It was one of the many nights when sickness wouldn’t let him rest, the sores on body were painful.

His one good eye fell on Maria. "Can't sleep. Hurts too much." He reached out with his paralyzed hand, his fingers brushing against her arm. She was the only person he allowed to touch him, aside Pierre. "Hold me," he whispered.